Onus
by FangirlsTarot
Summary: She had always known that, one day, she was going to have to marry. Though, the funny thing about 'one day' is that it's an abstract notion...until it's not. Then it's nothing but a complete surprise. Situation worse when one-sided love finds itself entangled within. For her, this marriage would be painfully real...because, for him, it's nothing but an obligation. [on hold]
1. Chapter 1: Dragons

**A/N: I had an odd dream the other night and, somehow, this came of it.**

 **A/N** _ **[continue]**_ **: AU…** ** _Very_** **AU without being modern setting…**

 **{Disclaimer: I own nothing~}**

* * *

 **One**

 ** _Time of the Dragons_**

* * *

 _Little girl was down by the waterside; sun so hot and the roses so red where she lie. Little boys sit and watch as she twirls all around._  
 _Sunny smiles not a rain-cloud could bring that girl down, but now..._

 _What's behind those big brown eyes? Do you dream at night without your lullaby?_

-Vertical Horizon's _Children's Lullaby_

* * *

"So, what happened next?"

The sound of a turning page, whispering amongst the late summer breeze and the waters lapping against the river's bank, was the only response given.

"Hey." Calloused, scarred fingers plucked at waved lock of light-blue, the same shade as the flowers growing amongst the reeds, that had escaped from its confining ribbon. "Hey, Sprout, are you listening to me?"

Another page turned. "What?"

Falling back on his hands, the boy glared at the sky…seeing that the source of his irritation was ignoring him, which was the very problem. "You heard me."

Eyes finally lifted from the hand-scribed words inked along the course paper; head titled back for brown irises could catch sight of her friend, whose lap she was currently occupying. "I thought you were tired of my reading."

"No, my legs are tired—numb even—from you, _princess_ , using me as an ass throne."

"Aren't all thrones ass thrones?"

"Don't cuss, your brothers will have me thrown in jail for teaching you curses."

"I doubt that they can. Only mother and father have that power. Either way, this is not my fault," she tried to turn her attention back to the story that, until several long minutes ago, she had been reading to him as well. It was a wasted effort, all the words blurred into nonsensical gibberish. "You lost in chess."

"You told me that it was an easy game to learn."

"It is—as long as you follow the rules."

"I did—"

Book snapped shut, Levy climbed to her feet, hugging the borrowed tome to her chest and taking advantage of this moment where she was the taller of the two. "You can't move the knight from one end of the board to the other."

"I moved it in a fucking L shape."

"Gajeel! Watch your language…at least when there is a lady nearby." The intruding voice lost its fire as it continued to speak, the speaker knowing full where that—even at eleven—there was some bad traits too far ingrained in the former-urchin's mind.

"Makarov!" Annoyance momentarily forgotten, Levy beamed at the withered man approaching what the two children considered a hidden spot, but was perfectly known to those in their lives.

At the same time, Gajeel limped to his feet—legs still tingling from bearing the girl's slight weight for the past several hours—and spoke over the blue-haired girl's greeting. "Levy's not a lady, she's…Levy."

A tongue was stuck out at him.

He rolled his eyes.

The man watched the two with barely concealed amusement. "Come on Geely—"

"Don't call me that."

A gnarled hand rested on top of his tangled mane of ebony knots, other arm pulling Levy into a half-hug as he steered the two towards the city's wall. "We're leaving in the morning and there is enough packing to do without one able body slacking off. As for you, Princess Levy McGarden Fernandes, your brothers are tearing the city apart looking for you. Their majesties are said to return this evening, what would happen if they were a child shy?"

Levy pouted.

Gajeel would have if he hadn't noticed that she got there before him. Reaching behind his guardian's back, he pressed soft leather against her palm. It wasn't until she had been safely returned to her room—not having said good-bye when they parted despite knowing Gajeel and the Dragons were going to leave with the dawn—that she opened the pouch and allowed the iron band within to tumble into her hand.

An iris.

The ring was now too small for her middle finger, where she had worn it every day from the moment it had hit her skin until she had endeared her—as moderate as it was—growth spurt five summer's past. It now adorned her right ring finger and had long grown tarnished from wear.

And currently stained with ink…like the rest of her hands.

She hadn't realized that she was humming under her breath until the library's double-doors slammed open, announcing the arrival of her sister-in-law…married to Levy's brother Jellal three years prior and—therefore, becoming current queen of the realm after a particularly lethal strand of influenza had robbed it of its king and queen in one fell swoop. Erza Scarlet, having maintained her family name rather than conform to that of royal line, had once been the most formidable warrior within the warring lands. Now, within a time of peace-however uncertain-with the marauding lands of the west, the general had turn to that ferocity towards something, anything else.

A long list of 'conquered' hobbies fell in the queen's wake and, presently, it seemed that intense focus was to be turned towards Levy, who felt the panic attack rising the moment their eyes met.

"Um…hello, Erza. What brings you here—?"

A snap cut Levy's voice short and summoned forth two maids, assigned to Levy's care but mostly made their living from ensuring that the princess remained in supply of books and worked as interference towards anyone who may disturb her study.

The traitors fell into line the moment the queen gave them so much as a passing glance.

Getting to her bare feet—not sure what was going on but not liking the sense in the air, Levy backed away from the table her head had been bent over for—now that she caught sight of the window overlooking the ground's encompassing the elaborate western gardens—the better part of a day. "What's going on?"

Looking her younger sister-in-law over—the ink stains on flesh and shift-dress hanging losing in a figure most would consider 'yet to bloom'...at best—with lips pursed in contemplation. "We need to get you cleaned up." Erza casually motioned for the maids to abduct the princess.

Levy held up her hands to stall her inevitable extraction from her literary haven. "Why?"

Brow lifted, Erza crossed her arms and nodded towards the window. "You haven't noticed, really?"

The word brought a flick of a smile to Levy's lips. Dashing over to the window, she leaned over the sill to see the brightly colored carts slowly trekking through the side gate. They came once a year, the Dragon of Fiore. The elite envoy belonging to the empire to the north that had been founded on mercenaries who banded together long ago when faced with a common enemy. Or so the legend went. Now, the most powerful governing nation within the known lands, it sent out parties to the free countries beneath their impassible mountain range as a means to maintain the peace and lending aid when required to their allies.

Staying for nearly two seasons a year, the Dragons had been an anchor of sorts to Levy's life. Especially in regards to childhood days filled of running about with the children the ambassador had gathered during his travels. Foster children of humble birth who were destined for ends far greater than their beginnings.

And the only true friends Levy had ever known.

Smile turned to giddy laughter—delights of childhood still clinging to the young woman—and legs took off without another word, racing down the corridors, intent on bursting into the garden to help with the annual bonfire...before skidding to a stop by a hand gently gripping her arm.

Levy's short legs had no chance of outdistancing the former general turned souvenir.

"There's no need going to the gardens. Gajeel thought to meet you in the throne room."

"… … …Why?" Was the only word to come to Levy's normally over-linguistically-active mind. Even as she asked, she corrected her direction to head towards the nearest stairs that would deliver her to the ground floor's central room.

Erza, once again, deterred her actions. "Like I said, you need to clean up first."

Again, "Why?" was all Levy could think to say.

"Because…" Erza sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I'm certain that it is something that should serve as a surprise."

"A…surprise?" The last surprise her life-long friend had attempted nearly burnt down the palace's eastern wing, forever banning fireworks from use. "That can't be a good thing."

"But it is, a very good thing." Seeing Levy's continued bafflement, Erza threw her hands in the air. "He's here to propose, officially."

"Wait…what?"

"Levy, you were well aware that you and Gajeel were intended."

Levy frantically shook her head as bubbles of delight soured in her stomach and made her want to run off and be sick. "No, it was speculated...something mother and father liked to jest about, but never. It was never etched in stone and..."

"Etched in stone or not, this should not be too much of a shock…Where are you going?"

Marching past the queen, no longer intimidated and giving off an air that made others think before stopping her purposeful stride, Levy made way to the throne room at a more measured pace. The euphoria of before having waned to ashes burning against the lashes of her eyes.

If she thought it possible, she would have kicked the doors open. Knowing that such would—most likely—do nothing more than break her foot, she settled on pushing them open with as much strength as she could muster before storming into marbled hall, where her brother—Mystogan, chief advisor to his king of a twin brother—was waiting beside a young man who towered over the heir's, until Jellal and Erza had their first child, slender stature.

Where he would normally be covered in dust from the road—black mane of hair a rat's nest of snares and knots, Gajeel wore an official uniform befitting a Dragon. A rank she knew he had acquired several years ago but had never seen him garishly display. The white and gold jacket, untouched by the slightest speck of dirt, was buttoned to his throat, when she knew such made him feel straggled and strained, and worn over what appeared to be freshly pressed pants.

He even shined his boots.

Both men turned at the sound of Levy's arrival, neither seeming to know what expression to wear as Levy marched towards them, approaching close enough to kick Gajeel on the shin. The action possibly bruising her toes more than anything, but he still jumped back in shock.

Though that may be from her yelling "No!" on impact before marching back towards the door.

"Levy—"

"What the fuck Sprout?!"

Whipping about, she jabbed a finger in the men's general direction. "No! If you think that I'm just going to act all modest and…and…grateful at the idea of some staged proposal, then neither of you have any insight to my true person. Honestly...honestly, I don't know what to be more insulted about…" The last part muttered under her breath, she turned to exit once more.

"Insulted? Listen, Sprout, this wasn't my idea. I was told—" She bit the hand that was stupid enough to attempt grabbing her shoulder. Jerking back, Gajeel cradled the hand to his chest without looking for blood. Once more, probably more surprised than hurt. "What the fuck?!"

"So, this wasn't even your idea? Makarov just told you to come here and propose and…and…" Hands turning to fists, her nails dug into her palms. "What?" Looking him over with burning eyes, she made a general wave at his appearance. "Let me guess, Mira dressed you up and Lisanna wrote out whatever speech is on those cards poking out your sleeve, planning on spouting out as if you thought of any of this yourself?"

Self-consciously touching the cuff of his jacket, crimson eyes widened in a near pleading expression. "You know I'm no good at words."

"And you thought, what, that flowery speeches and the rare bath would make any of this less humiliating…less mortifying? Well, you can go back to the caravan and tell everyone who concocted this monstrosity that it was a fail." Turning for a third time, she shot over her shoulder, "Epic poetry type of failure."

"Levy—"

She did not stop this time. "The answer is no, now and forever." The words lacked the heat from those preceding them, but still made her stance known without a doubt.

"Levy." Mystogan, though, did not plead or chastise. The more mild mannered of her brothers, saying her name was more for show than control. Also a promise that he would be checking in on her at a later time.

He being the only person she suspected who knew the truth.

The first tear didn't start until the door to her room was in sight.

Wiping at it, she smeared a speckling of blood along a cheek bone, which was then cleared away by the hem of her dress. A scarlet droplet stained her ring's metal; she yanked it off and threw it across the room before swiping at her face once more with what was now a ruined dress. Bent over, a bow to her sorrow, to achieve this, she felt the metaphorical flood gates finally burst open.

Releasing her hold on the fabric, she wrapped her arms about her stomach—the only things that seemed to be holding her together—as her limbs began to quake and sobs ripped through her chest.

She didn't even make it to her bed, collapsing onto floor. Curled on the rug she had spent year stretched out on with one book or another, she gave into the anguish and self-pity that had been mounting since realization of what fickle fate had in store for her had begun to develop.

Yes, she had been aware that she had been intended to, one day, marry someone, possibly Gajeel or one of his Dragon brothers in arms—a means to further bind their small kingdom to the Dragon Empire. What her silly, pathetic, naïve, overly-romantic imagination had failed to contemplate was, when that moment came, it would have been by Gajeel's own volition. That, even though it was expected, he would have done it because he had grown to love her as much as she had hopelessly felt for him.

That he would have fought for what he would consider an honor; his greatest desire.

That down there, what she had just endured, was none of the above.

The formality...

The production…

The fact that he was making it a public event…

That was not her Gajeel's doing.

No, none of it felt like him, which mean that none of it was him. Forget romantic love, if he had a shred of care for her—lingering remnants of their friendship he seemed to have completely cast aside—he would have gone about matters differently.

She hadn't been worth the effort of genuine thought on his part.

So now she knew, she had become nothing more than an obligation.

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 **A/N** _ **[continue/part 2]:**_ _ **Please let me know what you think? For good or bad, your input is greatly appreciated.**_


	2. Chaoter 2: Decisions

**A/N: Thank-you all for the comments/favorites/alerts~!**

 **A/N** ** _[continue]_** **: This is a shorter chapter—sorry—but I wanted to get something out to you guys before life gets a bit crazy**

 **{Disclaimer: I own nothing~}**

* * *

 **Two**

 ** _Time to Make Decisions_**

* * *

When there was a knock on her door, she expected Mystogan to be on the other side, shy and understanding smile on his face with a basket fill of pilfered kitchen treats and the promise of keeping the royals—well-meaning but overbearing by nature—at bay until she was ready to face their inquiry.

The last person she expected was the massive blonde scowling arouns the lighting-shaped scar cutting along the right side of his face, directly thtough his right eye. How he managed to maintain sight was a wonder.

"Laxus?"

"Heard Redfox botched the proposal."

"I…I don't know if I would say that…"

"Right," Shouldering past her—though, to be fair, he was so much larger than her that he probably didn't register how his movements overpowered any options she might want to explore, he stepped into the room, gaze lingering on the books. Tomes and volumes placed along the shelves built into every available space of wall. Even then, there were mountain ranges of overflowing literature overtaking the majority of floor space. "Would have to get the words out in order to officially fail. You beat him to that."

Arms crossed along her chest, Levy slammed the door shut. Propriety be damned. She had known Laxus as long as she had known Gajeel. At times, the tattooed giant was more of a brother to her than distant and pensive Jellal. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Yeah, well, neither do I. Yet, somehow, here we are." Flopped down on her bed, only piece of furniture that could sustain his muscular bulk, he cocked his head at the constellations that she had long painted across her ceiling. She may be comfortable with him being in her space, that did not mean he had ever seen such before.

"You can tell your grandfather—"

"Gigi didn't come this year." Looking back down, calloused fingers scraped through already mussed locks. Aggravation found in how his knuckles whited against his scalp. "Nope, instead he's testing out retirement, leaving me to figure out this fucking bag of snacks."

"What's to figure out?" Settling in her favorite rocking chair—hoping the choice didn't make her appear to be the child she suddenly felt like—she settled her face in a determined expression. "I said no."

"Yes, but why?" Arms resting on knees, he lowered his gaze further to lock onto Levy's. "Are you—I don't know—in love with someone else? Is that why you kicked Gajeel and threw a tantrum."

"I did not throw a tantrum."

"Gajeel says different."

Levy tried, and proceeded to fail, not to roll her eyes like a disgruntled child. "Well—"

"As does your brother."

"Mystogan wouldn't—"

Laxus' lips turned into a smile, continuing to clicking off witnesses on fingertips. "And every servant who was within hearing range."

"Just wait—"

"His shin is going to be blue-and-blue come morning."

"Good."

Hand dropped between knees once more; smile faded. "I thought you two were friends."

"We are…or at least were until this debacle…"

"That was why gigi suggested the idea years ago. I mean, he kept having to prevent Gajeel from stowing you away within the wagons that first trip he was with us."

"We were seven and four." The words somehow made it around a snort.

"Which is why he wanted till you were seventeen and fourteen before bringing the idea to your parents."

"Still, ten years ago."

"Which is why he then checked in with Jellal last year, it being bad form to talk politics the time before—what with your parents just having been gone."

"And yet no one thought to consult me."

"Don't women like to be surprised, you know—romanced, with such things?"

"It's insulting." Eyes narrowed with a shake of her head. "Seriously, however did you manage to delude Mirajane into believing she wanted to marry you?"

"And that is a conversation I'm certain your brothers would be against us having. Let's just say that we have two kids for a reason."

"You have three."

Laxus' time to snort with a dismissing flick of the wrist. "Yeah, but the last one is suspiciously silent. He's plotting something."

"Yuri's deaf, not sinister."

"Point of all this being that gigi thought it best to strengthen our alliance through you."

"Because I am literally the only option."

"No, because you're brilliant—don't look surprised, everyone knows it. You're brilliant and have magic."

"That…that's not supposed to be common knowledge."

In some lands, magic was seen as heresy. Beliefs being something that even the mightiest monarchs had issue quelling. Despite having given birth to three children cursed with some in other lands—such as the Empire—saw as a gift. Levy and her brothers were warned about the dangers of their abilities from what seemed to be birth.

Unfortunately, the twins' abilities were too strong to consciously contain when they were of a young age. It was the origin of their matching facial tattoos, suppressors—gifts from the Empire during one of Makarov's first visits into their lands, when peace was shaky with the alliance new.

Levy's ability was far lesser than that of Jellal and Mystogan, simply had to practice vigilance.

It would have been the only secret she had kept from Gajeel if he had not caught her on sheer accident.

"More of a reason for you to come with us. Your brothers, their tied to this land...and, disturbingly enough…each other. Gigi always thought you were made for adventure." He made a show of looking about him once more. "Something that you don't just read about, but experience. Did you seriously turn your closet into a library?"

"Then I'll come to the Empire. No one said that I have to be married in order to leave the country." The country wasn't that archaic.

"I just told you that I know you're brilliant, don't act like a fucking moron. You know that's the only way you're getting out of this country."

"I won't marry Gajeel."

"Well," spreading his hands to illustrate their empty nature, "he's the only option I brought with me."

"Then we'll return to this conversation next year."

Levy went to stand up—showing the end of these negotiations; Laxus waved her back down.

"What about if it isn't real?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your marriage. It's not like anyone is going to be lingering outside his wagon to make sure that he screws you, which I'm not sure whoever came up with that idea was either insanely kinky or murderously creepy."

"But, if we say the vows, in the eyes of the gods—"

"Then we won't have a ceremony."

"Wait…what? How would that possibly work?"

"You can get dressed up—the veil and dress and…whatever else it is that woman layer themselves in, leave the palace with Gajeel—you just have to smile through the trek from departure and destination for the populace's benefit, and hop on his wagon. From there, you two travel back to the Empire and be away from your native public's eye. Who, by all appearances, will believe that you're married. Then, once in the empire, you just have to smile and wave for your new populace to complete the illusion. After that and inbetween, you can hate on and ignore Redfox as much as you want."

That was far from what she wanted, not that she could say that.

Unaware of the constrictions her lungs and heart—everything in the general rib-region—were suffering, Laxus continued to lay out his spontaneous plan. "Simple as that: solid alliance forged. And, once you settling into the capitol's Central Spire, if you happen to find another Dragon who strikes your fancy, you'll be free to 'divorce' Gajeel and go off with him. Or her." He amended with a lift of his brows. "It's recognized in the Empire now."

"I'm not inclined that way."

"No judging, just letting you know that you'll have plenty of options."

So many questions were battling through the pain that wanted nothing more than release a fresh set of tears. One found its way past the lump chocking her throat, somehow coming out clear rather than giving away the sob that wanted to accompany it. "Why a Dragon?"

"You know we're the closest thing the Empire has to nobles; the only level that would be 'appropriate' for someone like you to marry. Any lower and we'd risk any political ties through you becoming null and void. This is exactly why gigi pushed Gajeel's qualifier through."

Levy's nose crinkled. "He's been a Dragon for years."

Laxus tilted a hand from side to side. "Of sorts. There are varying levels within the order. He didn't become a full-fledged and independent Dragon till last winter."

"Why did it take him so long?"

"Because he…you know, no. Marry him—sorry, pretend marry him—and ask him yourself."

"How long do I have to think about this?"

"Need an answer before I leave this room."

"Why?"

"Gajeel needs to get back to the capitol. Only one full-fledged Dragon accompanies a convoy at a time. You know that, or I thought you did. That's why the number of gigi's fucking pet projects have decreased over the years in visits. Redfox only came here to get hitched, then he has orders of his own to follow."

"So, if I agree to this, I would be leaving—"

"In three days." Again, looking at the books. "You can take whatever you want with you…as long as it fits in his wagon…but, you know, you might have to part with some of these."

"And if I say no?"

"Most likely, your brother's will find someone else for you—some other alliance they can work on—and," he added, some sort of glint sparking in normally obtuse eyes, "this would be the last time you see Gajeel."

Her heart gave another lurch before plummeting into her stomach. While she loathed the idea of being bond to Gajeel for nothing more than political purposes. A love less life where she may have to endure the humiliation of enduring him taking others to bed and only gifting her with attention when in the public eye.

Like Laxus said, they only had to smile and bear it when on display.

But yet, she could feel her very soul begin to crack and splinter at the thought of never seeing him again. It was stupid and naïve and pathetic…but, there is was: her hope that, given time, they may be able to get past this. Maybe not into shared love but—somehow—finding their way back to their steady footing of friendship.

Would a farce of a marriage with a—eventual—center of mutual respect and platonic, on his part, affection, be all that bad?

Damn it!

Where was her pride?

And yet she still struggled to consider the lesser of two evils.

Seeming to sense her continued struggle, Laxus rested back on his hands and contemplated the ceiling once more. "You may not be able to take all of this with you but, did you know, there is an entire town—more like a mini-city with a dome—that serves the explicate purpose of being a library?"

That jolted Levy out of her spiral as effectively as a bolt of lightning would have served.

"And, I might add, it is within riding distance to the capitol."

With that subtle bribe, the scales tipped and her fate was decided.

* * *

 **A/N** ** _[continue/part 2]: Please continue to let me know what you think? For good or bad, your input is greatly appreciated._**


	3. Chapter 3: Arrived

**A/N: Thank-you all for the comments/favorites/alerts~!**

 **A/N** ** _[continue]_** **: Sorry for being absent—Family was in last week, so that is where most of my time went to.**

 **{Disclaimer: I own nothing~}**

* * *

 **Three**

 ** _The Time has Arrived_**

 ** _[What now?]_**

* * *

"Seems like a waste—" The gruff voice came from the other side of the wagon, arching over the dully painted roof—so different than the usual precedent of vibrant hues that such usually presented, that would serve as Levy's home during the foreseeable future.

Knuckle striking the intricately carved—if not painted—wood of the wagon's side, Levy bit back a curse as she finally obtained freedom from the constricting garment. "There is limited space in the wagon, right?"

"Yeah but—I don't know—don't women like to keep their dresses—"

"This isn't a real marriage, remember?"

A soft thunk—heel of a boot hitting a wheel?—proceeded a grated response, "How could I forget?"

There had probably been more miserable brides in the history of forced matrimony:

War Tithes...

Child Brides to the Elderly...

Replacement Brides for Deceased Sisters...

Tragic Self-Sacrificing Beauties—Forsaking True Love to Marry the Hideous Beast…

Levy had constructed numerous tales for such, along with several other scenarios, throughout the days leading to her 'marriage.' While not real—something only known to those directly involved…all six of them, nearly as much effort had to be placed into the farce's preparation as if the ceremony would legitimately be happening.

No one would be inside to see that nothing actually occurred but, appearance had to be maintained. Which meant that flowers ha to be gathered, food prepared—something Levy would have felt guilty about except that her kingly brother had solved that particular waste problem by having a city-wide feast in honor of the festivities…

This also included constructing the damnable dress, a corseted monstrosity of fluffed skirts, which threatened to swallow Levy whole, and a bodice that constricted the lungs in exchange for the semblance of cleavage that breaking a few ribs managed to obtain.

Her head ached from the pins and pulls her hair endured to host the gauzy veil attached to an ornate tiara that, she was told, had been worn by her grandmother. A sentiment that would have been touching, except that it was a prop to best sell the sham's illusion. The heirloom was forever tarnished in her mind, causing her to scowl more so at the twinkling diamonds nestled above her head than anything else her reflection had to offer.

"You look lovely," Erza—her only assistance in preparation—had assured, a gentleness to her voice that wasn't commonly found in the redhead's demeanor. Yet another thing Levy would find touching if not entwined directly to the empty events that were about to transpire.

And if she didn't know that such came from a direct place of pity. Where Erza had been a radiant bride—not only from her raw beauty but from the inner-glow that only came from marrying one's one true love, Levy knew that—even if she wasn't being forced into the position—she would never be nothing more than appearing to be a child playing at a bride.

Rather than face her lawful sister, Levy's frown deepened at the mirror's reflection before gathering up her skirts and throwing back her head in as much defiance as she could muster, fortification against the tears that were burning behind her eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

Leaving her room—her haven for the past two decades of life—should have merited a second glance, some trepidation about leaving the familiar for the unknown, but she honestly had no room in her for further possible melancholy. If she allowed her mind to rest for a moment on the fact that this would be the last time she would be in a space—the only space—that was entirely hers—not mentioning the precious friends she was leaving behind, Levy wouldn't have the strength to walk out the door and down to the grand entrance hall where her 'groom' was waiting.

Like her, Gajeel was dressed to fulfill the illusion. Just in a more comfortable manner. After all, he could simply wear his uniform of status and be deemed ready for such an occasion. There being only a few additives to the same outfit worn during his failed proposal:

A sash of her country's colors draped across his chest and knotted at the opposing hip.

The iron of his numerous piercings had been replaced with precious metals, some adorned with jewels.

There might have been a haircut within the last few days…

During years past, she would have greeted the sight with laughter and teasing suggestions about how he made a living off the gifts and favors of saucy noblewomen—both the bored and married along with the hungry and widowed. Now, all his appearance brought was the desire to be anywhere else.

To not even look at him.

Her eyes remained straight ahead on entrance specifically to avoid catching sight of his expression, which was undoubtedly bored and impatient to have this over and done with.

And he wasn't the only one. "Well, let's get this joyous moment over and done with." Laxus drawled, pushing Levy to stand beside Gajeel and—when she didn't do it on her own accord—physically tucked her arm into his offered elbow.

"Laxus—"

"Remember, you have to sell this Redfox." Laxus hissed, obviously intending that the words be heard by Gajeel alone. Being as close as she was, Levy couldn't help but overhear as well. "Make it believable or don't even step out the door."

It was an unmistakable threat, which begged what was being held over Gajeel that would force him into this unwanted union…

Before she could contemplate further, the doors were thrown up and they were greeted by the celebratory screams and riotous cries of those who had been waiting outside. All attempting to be the first to catch sight of the newly united couple, making Levy wonder why there wasn't anything better for them to do.

Yes, the day was marked as a holiday but, rather than dwell on the fake-romance of others, she wished those presented would have instead used this time to enjoy their lives rather than revel in what murmurs ploy she was participating.

The lie was turning her stomach sour.

Amongst the cheers of those ignorant to the truth—both native citizen and foreign, came a common, persistent demand: "Kiss!"

Arm dropping, Gajeel's hand went to rest on Levy's hip, turning her about to face him and pulling her in close enough that her chest brushed the chiseled muscles of his torso. Buttons of his jacket digging into the boning of her corset as a gloved hand—full-fingered rather than his usual ratty finger-less preference—tilting her chin up so, for the first time since arrival, her gaze met his.

 _Don't you even think about it…_

Ignoring the warning her eyes were screaming, Gajeel ducked his head, angling it so his lips could brush along hers. The crowd went wild while Levy tried to convince herself that the tremble that traveled along her spine was from rage as he slowly eased her lips open to deepen the kiss.

For him, nothing more than a show to sell the story.

For her, a stolen kiss—her first—that deserved to be a part of something better…more meaningful that…

If she had known that this would be how such would occur, she would have long given in to some of the town boys' and younger guards' persistent requests for stolen moments in corridors and alleys. She had always declined because—though she had never admitted such, and would now be taking to her grave—she had always hoped her first kiss would be with Gajeel.

Did this count as irony?

If it did, irony was a bitch.

Angered fueled, she brought the kiss to an abrupt end by biting Gajeel's lower lip. They were too far away from anyone to notice the assault, so there was no pause or diminishment of the rambunctious calls. Nope, the only ones effected by the dampening of the mood were the two directly involved.

Arm dropping once more, Gajeel took a measured step back before turning back to the crowd with what appeared to be a pain smile—either from the bite or from the situation itself, he had never been one for public appearances—and gave a brief wave before ushering Levy to the wagon waiting at the base of the stairs leading up to the castle.

"We had to sell it—" Stopping several miles outside the city's limits—safe from the risk of being spotted by a celebrator—amongst the dense woodlands that stretched towards the foothills of the Imperial mountain range fortifying the empire's southern border, they had taken advantage f the first possible opportunity to change.

Gajeel's voice got closer, moving to the wagon's back where the door was located to enter the living space within. Soft clinks and chimes spoke of his continued attempt to change out the more decorative piercings for the tarnished ones of his every day.

Teeth gritted, Levy focused on pulling on drape pants, comfortable but hanging dangerous low on her hips, that left a scandalous strip of skin visible beneath where the hem of her sleeveless-cropped vest laced to her clavicle. It was promising to turn into a hot day and there wasn't much of a risk of encountering many while on the road, so why endure more discomfort than was required?

"As you have mentioned."

"I'm just saying, you don't have to be so pissy about a little kiss."

" _Pissy_?" Voice lifting, she glared around the wagon's back corner.

Gajeel met her fury with a shrug, unaware to how her heart squeezed painfully at the sight of him.

Hair unbound, wild locks already attempting to form into knots, he had exchanged his finery for well-worn trousers and a fraying tunic—once black but now a charcoal-shade of grey—accepted with metal about the sleeveless cuffs and about the collar. This was the Gajeel she loved, or—at least—he was now resembling the person she had fallen for long before she knew to fortify herself against such.

"Seemed nicer than saying that you don't have to be such a fucking bitch." Arms crossing, he leaned a shoulder against the wagon's door. "You didn't want to marry me. I get it, alright? It happened and all this is accomplishing is making our lives miserable."

"Only until I find someone else."

Crimson eyes narrowed, pulling at the studs in his brows. "What?"

"Didn't Laxus tell you?" Levy, needing something to do with her hands, fought with her short waves to pull it back into a stubbed tail. "Once we're in the capitol, I can marry some other Dragon."

Gajeel could only blink at her for several breaths. Jaw seemed to be chewing over the words before he was able to voice them. "You're just going to husband hop?"

Mirroring his shrug as hand dropped from her hair, Levy turned away towards the wagon's bench where the horses were taken advantage of time without their humans so leisurely graze, pulling the wagon partially off the road to accomplish such. "If the opportunity presents itself."

"Seriously?" Reaching out, he snagged her arm to turn her back to face him. Unlike before, there was no romantic pretense to his hard expression. "Just that easy?"

Refusing to be intimidated or overwhelmed with the ever-lingering desire to break down into sobs, Levy forced herself to not flinch. "Why not? We got married just that easy." Her eyes rolled down to where he still held onto her.

Noticing where her attention went, he slowly relented his hold. One finger at a time as he took a visible breath before speaking once more. "Yeah but…come on…"

"Don't tell me that your ego is really that delicate that you can't stand the idea of me leaving you for someone else?" Her mocking smile wanted to shake; she ordered it to remain firm. She may be acting like a bitch, unlike the Levy he was used to, but better that he grows to be irritated at the sight of her then to discover the truth and treat her with incumbent pity.

"No." Not sure if he was saying this in response to her statement or from the situation on the whole, Levy dumbly watched Gajeel walk past her to swing up onto the wagon's bench.

Desire to inquire further—that being what would be expected—being hindered by common-sense and self-preservation, Levy let the conversation die and clumsily climb onto the bench beside him.

Well…beside him beyond the canvas sack resting between them. Inside was her gown and veil, both destined to be donated to the first alms house or orphanage they encountered. As for the tiara and jewels that had been forced on her, those were locked away in the wagon until she found a secure way to transport such back into her brothers' care. If possible, she wanted to erase every possible memento of the day from her memory.

Mentioning mementos...

Her hand slid into her pocket, curling about the delicate circle of iron—tarnished with age and speckled with dried blood—that her foolish and treacherous heart would not permit her to cast aside. Despite—looking at Gajeel's profile from the corner of her eye, the harsh angles of his face seeming sharper than usual—how much she would want to.

* * *

 **A/N** _ **[continue/part 2]: Please continue to let me know what you think? For good or bad, your input is greatly appreciated.**_


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